Oh, Mr Wright
Disclaimer – Don't own anything you might recognize, created purely for fun. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon
Buffy giggled delightedly as her slightly intoxicated dance partner swung her in a graceful circle and dipped her so low that the tips of her seawater clogged hair almost touched the sand.
“You tryna get me all dizzy, Dave?” she asked breathlessly once he'd pulled her back upright.
He smiled cheekily as they swayed to the music being blasted from the nearby speakers. “Well I figured that it was the only way an odd yet charming dork like myself could possibly persuade such a beautiful young lady like you to have another drink with me.” He was teasing her, and she liked it. There was nothing better than a guy with a great sense of humour.
Buffy hadn't known Dave for very long – actually, she'd only known the guy for the three hours that the beach party had been swinging. But he was nice and cute and had been flirting with her ever since he'd spotted her through the smoke of the bonfire and Buffy was pretty sure that she'd need no persuasion whatsoever to spend a little more time with him tonight. In fact, she was just about to break all 'playing it cool' rules and tell him exactly this when she felt the buzz of her cellphone going off inside the back pocket of her denim shorts.
“Hold that thought,” she instructed Dave, before disentangling herself and moving away from the bonfire and the music to answer the call. “I'll be back,” she promised over her shoulder.
Once she was far away enough for the music to be muffled and for the smell of the smoke to be fainter, she flopped down onto the sand, near enough to the water so that she could wriggle her happy little toes in it.
“Buffy?” the person on the other end of the phone exclaimed as soon as she had hit answer.
She started in surprise at the sound of her mother's voice, unused to hearing Joyce down the phone. Ever since Buffy had begun travelling three years ago, Joyce had always contacted her by email as she was never sure which country her daughter was going to be in, and was always confused by the phone codes. It was an endearing quality, one of Joyce's many ditzy attributes, and it always made Buffy miss her mother just that little bit more whenever she thought about it.
“Hey, Mom,” she replied. “What's wrong? There's something wrong, right? For you to be calling me instead of mailing?”
“Oh...yes, actually. Buffy, we need you to come home.”
Buffy blinked, surprised by her mother's statement. Never, not once, in the past three years had there ever been a cause for Joyce to call Buffy home from her travels. Not the time when her step-father, Giles, had flooded the house, not the time when her mother had forgotten about her incense sticks and burnt down a whole bed, not even the time Buffy's older brother, Xander, had announced he was getting married to a belly dancer – only to break it off three days later when he found out she was cheating on him with the club barman...and woman.
Buffy visited home every six months or so, so there had really been no other need for her to go back to Sunnydale apart from then.
“Mom, what's happened?” she questioned, a little niggle of worry worming it's way through her belly.
There was a muffled commotion in the background, and Buffy strained her ears to try and find out what was going on. “Oh dear...Buffy, I have to go. The twins have just broken the vase your grandmother gave us last Christmas.”
“Wait, the twins are there?”
Oh dear, the devil twins. Thomas and Jesse – her father's evil seven year old sons from his marriage to his second wife, Darla. As much as Buffy loved her little brothers, they could be complete pains in the ass when they were...well, awake.
“Um...yes. Seriously Angelkins, I have to go. I'll explain everything when you get here. You will come, won't you?”
“Of course I'll come. I'll get the first flight out tomorrow.”
Joyce let out an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you. You don't know how good that is to hear. Will you let me know what time you arrive? I'll pick you up from the airport.”
“Sure thing. I'll call you tomorrow when I know.”
There was some more noise in Joyce's background – a squeal this time and a loud thud.
“Banana sticks!” Joyce cursed. “Thomas, let go of your brother's ear! No, I said let go! Oh, where's your mother? Oh no...Buffy, I really must go. I'll see you soon.”
“But wait, can't you at least-” Anything else Buffy had been about to say was cut off by the shrill sound of the dial tone. “tell me what's going on...” she trailed off.
She huffed out a frustrated little puff of air. As endearing as Joyce's ditzyness was, it could also be extremely annoying. But it wouldn't stop her from doing as her mother had asked and getting home as soon as she possibly could. Joyce wouldn't have asked her to come home unless it was a crisis of the serious kind, she was all about the being free, letting Buffy follow her dreams of seeing the world. But Buffy was a big family girl, and there was nothing she wouldn't do to help them if they needed it.
Still sitting down, she looked back towards the beach party sadly. People were still dancing around the bonfire...freely...carelessly. She'd only been in Greece for a week and a half but she'd already fallen in love with the place, the people, everything. Going home would be such a downer. She'd always felt so confined back in Sunnydale, so trapped. It was why she'd gone travelling in the first place...to feel free.
She supposed everybody needed to go home sometime.